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Mending the Broken

Chapter Six

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

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Blitz didn't have to wait long to find his opening, though his texts to Stolas, even the ones that had followed his first three, had gone unanswered. Even his Voxtagram messages, that weird DM thing (who needed that on a site for picture sharing shit?) had gone unanswered, not even read. Maybe it would have stung less if he'd been left on read, but that the owl had not even gotten the messages, well...he felt like that meant something. He didn't quite know what that meant yet, but he was going to find out. That was key to a good assassin, of course, to know when to stalk his prey, even if Stolas was not any kind of "prey" to him outside the bedroom (and just for a kink, that one time), to take his time, to find all the facts. Perhaps it was a little calculating of him, but, fuck, who did anything the right way in Hell?

He just had to try, had to work things out in his own head, and quickly too.

He followed a certain owl on Voxtagram - well, not Stolas. That one was a given and that Stolas had not blocked him helped some, though the owl not answering his text, even looking at it... Well, he didn't want to think about that. But he hadn't heard anything on the news or anything that there had been a raid on a royal's home, no danger, no threat, no turf wars where the Overlords were clashing with royalty again.

But _@gothchk17_was Stolas' daughter and it seemed that having her added on Voxtagram was finally paying off! It was just a picture, though what wasn't said told a lot more than a single image...

"Tickets, huh? Two tickets..."

Okay, it was a guess, but Blitz thought it was a pretty damn good guess, based on what Stolas had told him about Octavia and what he had overheard while sneaking around the mansion. Stella was hardly the least overbearing of mothers, to say the least, and Stolas was very protective (that was putting it mildly, though he was pretty much the same with Loona, so what leg did he really have to stand on there?), so there was no way he was letting his "only just of age" daughter out alone. Stella... Well, he'd heard the arguments easily through the walls when he'd been waiting for Stolas to be done with Stella before their monthly rendezvous. Stella wanted Octavia to be a perfect princess of Hell society.

Put simply, that wasn't who Octavia was. Even Blitz could see that. So, Stella controlled her. That led to a lack of socialisation, a lack of friends...

Ah, so astute! Fuck yeah! Stolas would have been proud of him for using a word like that, but Blitz hadn't gotten to being as good of an assassin as he was by not taking in the tiniest of details. He had to follow his guesses, trusting his instinct. Where it counted, it had gotten him as far as he was.

That had to be good enough, his fingers trembling, buying the same tickets without even checking what was in his bank account. He was sure it was fine. It would be fine. Everything had been bought, there was no going back from that. There were no refunds to be had in Hell, after all.

Was he stupid? Doubts crept in after the rash action had been taken. It was the case with him: he acted impulsively, on instinct, and then thought about things afterwards. That was why he rumbled and churned through so many instances of his past, why he went over things time after time again. He did the thing and then he worried about it, stressing as to whether it had been the right thing. All in the privacy of his own home, where no one could see him and he could cuddle up with his horse blanket.

Well, sometimes Loonie saw him. But his darling daughter would never do anything to harm his reputation. At least not severely, anyway.

It was better than how he had used to be, swearing, snarling, letting panic rule him. That wasn't to say that it wasn't still there, it was just...different. Maybe a little better in some ways, maybe a little worse. He'd started trying to "make things better" (sometimes brutally, forcibly) not long after the full moon agreement with Stolas had begun. Sometime after Loo Loo Land?

Go figure, right?

He uncurled himself from his ball on the sofa, taking a deep breath that ached through his chest more than it should have. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what was he thinking? But the tickets were bought and the world hadn't exploded, so maybe things would be all right. If it wasn't the middle of the workweek, an evening, he would have fucked off and gone right down to the stables to see Stormblaze and maybe, just maybe, that would have settled him. It was hard to be a complete fucking mess, after all, when there was a beautiful Hell horse right there before him.

But Stormblaze wasn't there and he wouldn't be able to see the magnificent stallion until the weekend. That would be before everything went down at the gig, of course, so...that was something. It would let him calm his nerves better than Hellfire whisky at the very least, though they were sure to spring back again when he was out at the club.

It wasn't much of a club, to be fair, now that he looked into it. More of a dingy hole in the wall. He was surprised that Stolas was even letting Octavia go to that, though it was certainly the scene of a particular Hellhound...

Best go sweeten her up though, so that she thought he wasn't purely doing it for "daddy and daughter bonding time". It was only a benefit to him, however, when good things came together. It put him in the same room as that twice damned pretty bird owl (with his gorgeous, long-ass legs) and also got him some special time with his girl. By the time Loona was sick of him (which probably wouldn't take long at all), she would welcome the respite - and that was something he knew for a fact.

Loona's door, of course, was closed, but that didn't stop Blitz from barging through with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Ah! Loonie Toonie!" He sang, practically skipping into her room. "How'd you like to go see the hottest and happening-est band in the entirety of the Pride ring? Paid for all by your adoring father, this guy, right here!"

The Hellhound would have growled at him to get out of her room, lying on her bed with her headphones on, though Blitz all too happy tones could get through the most noise-cancelling of devices.

"If it's not Fuck You Dad, I'm not interested, Blitz," she droned, not even looking away from her phone, held up before her. "Go away."

"Aw, Loonie, is that really any way to speak to your old man?"

He grinned widely, turning his phone so that she could see the tickets already pre-purchased on the screen.

"You'll looooove it," he sang, though her eyes only flicked briefly to his phone, disinterested. "It's a new band, Demon Drool! All the teens are raging about it these days!"

"Dude, I'm nineteen. Barely a teen. Like, really."

But Blitz was not to be dissuaded, his tail lashing the air as he showed all his teeth in his widest grin yet.

"Still a teen though, Loonie! And I'm determined that you will enjoy the best of your teen years - more than I did anyway!"

That had her attention, though Loona barely looked at him, not wanting her adopted father to know that he was getting to her in some way.

"Yeah? Well, going to a gig with an old man like you sure as fuck ain't going to do a damned thing for my street cred. Where the fuck is this anyway?"

"Black Horse!"

He announced the name proudly and, well, it was perfect. A pub with a name that referenced a horse: there just wasn't anything better to Blitz. But it was somewhere the Hellhound recognised, perking her torn ear, though she didn't spare him much of a sidelong glance. It was enough for the imp to know that she was interested, however.

"Huh. Shithole's gone down another notch then," she grunted, eyes fixed to her phone. "And you think I'm going to waltz in there with you fawning all over me? What if Tex is there? I don't want anyone thinking I'm just some loser there with my dah- I mean, you, Blitz, you."

Blitz should have been happy that the Hellhound had almost called him her father, which didn't happen very often at all, but he was too focused on getting her on board. It was most likely all a show anyway. Even though Loonie had not been in his life for all that long, not in the grand scheme of things, he liked to think that he knew her a little better than she reckoned. There was still more to uncover, however, but he was patient.

"Come on, Loonie, you said it yourself - we look nothing alike, obviously!" He said dramatically, spreading his arms wide. "You can even do my makeup or some shit, no one's going to fucking know we're together, least of all that I'm your dear old dad! I won't embarrass you there, I promise. Would you really turn down the chance to see Demon Drool perform live and get in ahead of the curve on a cool new band just to not go out with me?"

He put extra emphasis on the wrong words, his eyes wide, plaintive, tail still with only the tip of his spade vibrating, as if that was the only indicator he could possibly give of his anxiety, how important it all was to him. Loona groaned, setting her phone down on her chest, on the hard bit of her collarbone, though still didn't turn to him.

"What?" Her ear twitched. "Blitz, what in Hell are you on about?"

He brushed her off, hopping onto the bed next to her, the mattress creaking under his added weight.

"Oh, Loonie, come on," he wheedled. "I'm paying for the tickets, I'll pay for your outfit. It's not that big a deal, is it? We can go shopping - your favourite thing! I'll get you a Hell smoothie, the spicy one that's all over Voxtagram right now!"

Hell, he would have paid for everything even if it was not said, in that moment, to persuade Loona to come along with him. But the Hellhound, despite his best efforts, didn't have all that much money of her own, even if he tried with all his might to provide for her. He tried, could only try, would spend the rest of his fucking life trying, even if he had to make dead fucking sure too that any Hellhound, least of all Tex, wasn't ever going to do anything to harm his Loonie. She'd grow up, she'd get a guy (or a girl), but the one thing Blitz never wanted to see was tears in her eyes.

And he wouldn't, not that time, not as she shrugged, sighing heavily as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. It was all for show. His heart leapt.

"Sure, fine, whatever, Blitz. When's the fucking thing?"

And the plan was set in motion.

*

"Stolas? What are you doing here?"

Of course, not even his subconscious could be kind to him. He was back in the mansion, standing on the balcony, his choker loosened at his throat, his shirt unbuttoned and flapping lightly in the breeze as if it was about to come off. The Goetian prince may have loomed, yet the softness of his smile and the crinkling to the corners of his eyes told Blitz, in that moment, exactly where the power lay between them.

"Waiting for you, darling..."

Of course, it was with Blitz. Always with Blitz when it came to the bedroom. The prince sat on the bed, his arms open wide, and the imp went to them willingly, allowing himself to be folded into the demon's embrace.

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"Oh, how I've missed you..."

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Blitz' tail flicked to hear those words from Stolas' beak, wanting them so badly to be true. Yet how did he know? How could he know? But all he did know was the tender tracing of the Goetia demon's fingers between the spines on his back were all he needed, growling as he all but tackled Stolas onto the bed.

Where they had been clothed, they were unclothed in the blink of an eye, aware, in a way, that all was not as it seemed and not caring one bit either way. Blitz could not change the course of events anymore. It was not right to fight it and it felt too damn good to nuzzle into the floof of feathers at Stolas' chest, so thick and soft, rolling onto the bed that was both his and the demon's in the giant manor at the same time.

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It didn't have to make sense.

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The dream did not know where to take him, though he lunged into the depths of it hungrily, all the same, starving for a taste, thirsty for a touch. He had to have it, even as Stolas moaned, his long, lean body arching up beautifully to meet Blitz'.

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"Fuck, Stolas," Blitz growled, his tail lashing back and forth in adoring agitation. "I missed you, pretty bird..."

There was a blush on the owl's face as the imp kissed him passionately, crushing his lips to that beak as if there was nothing else for it, nothing else he wanted but to cup the beautiful owl's face in his hands and kiss him until there was nothing left. Nothing left but the truth, his pounding hard, the hardness of his cock begging for more even as Stolas' hand folded around it like it belonged there.

And it did, though, in the next moment, Blitz was over the owl, bending his long, long legs back, exposing his cloaca, the edges of his feathers already wet with slick. The imp growled, rubbing his cheek against Stolas' leg feathers, though it only took a single thrust for him to sink in.

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And there it was. Perfect symphony. As if the Hell birds were singing a far sweeter tune than normal, Stolas' cries and shrieks of lust and passion rising to fill the bedroom itself. No wonder they cleared out entire floors of the mansion of servants when they were really going at it - that fucker was loud when he wanted to be! Yet Blitz had no sharp words for him that time, no quips about ball gags and bear traps, longing only for the sweet plunge of his dick into the hole where it belonged.

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Stolas whimpered breathily, the imp's tail flicking around to tease the tip over the softer, more sensitive skin around his cloaca, where his cock could not reach when it was rammed inside. It was something that Blitz had learned during their times together, though he had never said it aloud, that he watched to see what Stolas enjoyed the most, just so that he could do more of it.

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But to have the owl orgasming on his cock, clinging to him, a feathered mess sprawled across the bedsheets, was all he could have wanted and more. Blitz fucked him through climax, pounding him deeply in just the way that the owl demon liked, though there was an edge of airiness, lacking the solidity of reality, that still told him that it was not real.

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"No... Stolas... Stay with me..."

He didn't want to lose it, curling forward over the owl as that wonderful passage closed around him, rippling and pulling with such shocking muscle control that it was a wonder that Blitz didn't pass out right then and there. He wanted to lose himself in it, the crude beauty of orgasm, yet his own would not come, not as he hitched Stolas' legs up higher over his shoulders, aching, moaning, tongue flickering from his lips as if he was scenting the air.

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Bit by bit, however, the sensation of sinfully soft feathers against his skin faded. The imp shuddered.

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No.

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He clung to it, though it slipped through his fingers, feathers dissipating the scene before he could even get to his own orgasm, though it hardly felt as if it mattered at a time like that. Only the owl, being with him, grinding in deep, needing it, craving him, only wanting that for the rest of his fucking cursed life down in Hell.

"Blitzy... Oh, dear, dear Blitzy..."

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Stolas whispered his name as his imp was wrenched from the scene, his cries falling deafly from his lips as if his tongue was wooden, his voice box locked up. He couldn't change the course of events, regardless of how he longed to have that delectable heat wrapped back around his cock, but he ached for the waking up beside the owl the next morning even more than that.

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But, just like that, he couldn't hold onto the Stolas in the dream any more than he could do the reality.

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When Blitz woke in a tangled mess of sheets and with a hard-on that could have punched through a stone wall, he groaned, pressing his hand over his face.

Fuck.

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He had it bad. It didn't feel as good to relieve his needs with just his hand, even if his boner wasn't going away through any other means.

The owl still hadn't texted him back.

As he jacked off, naked and sweaty in the dead of the night, Blitz tried not to think about what that meant. He didn't get much sleep after that thought had entered his head, however.

Figures.